


Concrete Angel

by BunnyCreekStyleDipTydeGregstophe



Category: South Park
Genre: Child Death, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-24 18:56:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21343093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BunnyCreekStyleDipTydeGregstophe/pseuds/BunnyCreekStyleDipTydeGregstophe
Summary: It's hard to see the painBehind the maskBearing the burdenOf a secret stormSometimes she wishes she wasNever bornThrough the wind and the rainShe stands hard as a stoneIn her world that she can rise aboveBut her dreams give her wingsAnd she flies to a place whereShe's lovedConcrete angel
Relationships: Mysterion/Marjorine (South Park)
Kudos: 3





	Concrete Angel

The bruises were something Lilianna ‘Marjorine’ Stotch was used to hiding. She had a black lace jacket that she could wear over her teal linen dress. And it seemed to work. Ms. Choksondik certainly never mentioned it. Something she was grateful for. Stephen Stotch didn't need that kind of distraction. He was so miserable and physically abusive towards Marjorine now that Linda was gone. And if he hit her sometimes it was nothing less than she deserved. Or at least, that's what he told her. So she hid them. It wasn't a big deal. No one really paid attention to her anyway, She always thought nobody likes or even loves her apart from her one friend. She wished sometimes that her mum had taken her with her when she’d died. Maybe then she wouldn't be such a burden on her so-called ‘father’. Or that her mama hadn't had her. Then she wouldn't have ever been a burden.  
At least she had Mysterion. He was her only friend and they liked it that way. He was the only one who understood her. Cause his dad hit him too. And he hid his bruises with a leather jacket the way she hid hers with lace. Sometimes she dreamed that they both could run away and live by themselves where no grownups could find them. He usually told her that was silly because they couldn't take care of themselves. They were just kids. But she still dreamed. It helped sometimes.  
That night was worse than normal. Stephan hadn't had a good day at work and he’d found a picture she’d drawn of her and Mysterion that said Best Friends. He said that little girls like her didn't deserve friends. Bad girls deserved to be punished. And then he hit her. More than usual. With his fists instead of his open hand or belt-like, he usually did. At one point as she was trying not to cry and trying to get away from him. She hit her head and things went a little sideways. She figured he’d stop then. Cause he usually didn't like her to get bruises on her face. But he didn't. He hit her harder. It was getting hard to see. And she felt dizzy and kind of warm. But also kind of cold at the same time. Then he hit her again and she fell back and hit her head again and that's when everything went dark.

The word of sweet little Lilianna ‘Marjorine’ Stotch’s death came as a shock to most people. Most people weren't Ms. Choksondik though. She’d known something was wrong at the little girl’s house. But other than a few inquiries about her home life, her mom had passed the year before, she didn't ask. Stuff like that wasn't her business.

The principal, Mr. Garrison, had wondered too. But the child had had at least one or two friends. And generally, the abused ones stayed away from others. Ah well, not like he could do anything about it now. One less child to worry about, at least.

Mitch Murphy had been the first responder on the scene. A child, a 7-year-old boy who said his name was Mysterion McCormick, had called it in. The dispatcher told him he'd said there were scary noises coming from the Stotch house. Scary noises that sounded like shouting and crying. He’d come to the house and discovered a run-down house but it was quiet. Deciding to check out the boy’s claim anyway he’d rang the doorbell and been greeted by a man in his mid-30s who had bloody knuckles and a snarl on his face. All he'd said was that the brat had had it coming before stomping off to the living room and slumping in the chair. Following him, he saw a child crumpled on the floor. She couldn't have been more than seven but she was covered in blood and bruises. She'd called for back-up and an ambulance before arresting the guy. Checking on the little girl, her worst fears were confirmed. No breath, no pulse, no nothing.

Mysterion went to the funeral. He'd brought the picture she drew of them. It said Best Friends. And he liked to think he'd brought at least a flicker of light into the ocean of darkness that had been the last year of her life. Their teacher, his parents Carol and Stuart, and the cop who'd gotten to the house first were the only other people there. Shaking his head he put the picture on the grave before walking away. Sometimes he wished he could’ve done more.

**Author's Note:**

> This is something random I put together after listening to Concrete Angel. I'm going through a rough patch and would like some advice,   
I have 7 siblings. My 2nd oldest brother outed me and only my younger brother and twin support me. The other 5 don't and my mum is staying out of any conflict and I don't know what to do.


End file.
